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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306376">Urnova-The Grand War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclipse_Tyrant/pseuds/Eclipse_Tyrant'>Eclipse_Tyrant</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet Ending, Civil War, Dragon shifters, Everyone Needs A Hug, Except Valaris, F/M, Germanic, He can shove it, Inverted Earth, It’s WW1 but with magic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Alliances, Shapeshifting, Telling a story one life at a time, War, everyone suffers, war and politics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclipse_Tyrant/pseuds/Eclipse_Tyrant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, the greatest nations each bore a different magic. But as the years passed, they became largely outdated, useless save for a reminder of their ancient power. </p><p>The Last Great Gifted Empire, Urnova, still bears a useful power. But there are enemies abroad and at home, and war is always an option...</p><p>For when dragons fly, they leave only Smoke and Screams in their wake.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Urnova-The Grand War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bain shivered in the cold morning air, the faintest light of dawn shining in the distance. From the top of the tallest of the Drachenfeste’s four towers he could see the entire Capital. He could even glimpse the harbor, and taste the salty breeze on the wind. Street lamps glowed like fireflies, electrical stars lighting up the streets.</p><p>One day, he would be Kaiser of all of this, and more, once Father Wulf and Grandsire Ulf were gone. Bain squared his shoulders, looking over the edge of the tower. It was an awfully long way to fall. He backed away, steeling his resolve. The cold winds howled through his ears and hair, eyes blinking away tears.</p><p>Cousin Romeo had laughed when he had seen that Bain’s eyes were still colorless. </p><p>“I proved that I was a dragon at the age of six,” he’d said. “What are you, ten? If you’re really a dragon, you’ll be shifting by the time I’m back.” Romeo had been told off by Mother, but Bain still simmered with indignation. And when Romeo had shifted into his dragon shape, he’d been a glorious blue shade. Bain would be twice as majestic, he was sure. Romeo was half-Noble, not of pure Royal blood as Bain was. Bain considered the edge of the twelve-sided black tower.</p><p>Then he ran, and leapt into thin air.</p><p>For an instant, there was nothing but the icy wind. And then he found what he was missing, saw what he was capable of. A brief image of an endless, glass-smooth sea beneath trillions of alien stars burned itself into his soul, four almighty lances of light visible in the distance. The water rippled in a slow, unnatural way from his feet, disturbing the symmetry of that place. Something filled the air, filled the water, the sky. It was home. Then he was engulfed in the brightest, most brilliant Light.</p><p>Bain’s arms became wings, his legs became claws, his head grew two horns and a tail erupted from his spine. Molten red-gold scales replaced frail human skin, and Bain flew.</p><p>A few wingstrokes, a rush of adrenaline, and then he began to plunge towards the courtyard so far beneath. He questioned his logic in throwing himself off the summit of a thousand-foot fortress. </p><p>Bain roared in sudden fear, instinctively crying out for his mother.</p><p>She heard, and in an instant threw herself from her chambers in a silver conflagration. The violet-gold bulk of Father followed, but both were too far away to catch him. He turned his sharpened vision on the rapidly growing tiles of the courtyard, arranged in the image of the First of the Four Founders.</p><p>How ironic, he thought just as the shadow of his grandmother’s red wings engulfed him. A set of colossal jaws, each armed with fangs bigger than his entire body, gently closed around him.</p><p>***<br/>
After safely arriving on the ground, it fell to Father to reprimand him. Mother was too angry to shift back to human shape, settling for impassioned roars that hurt his newly-sensitive ears.<br/>
“You could have died!” Father roared. “One of your uncles tried what you did, and he’s a corpse. We had to scrape his brains from between the tiles. If I ever see you trying something so foolish again, I’ll personally chain you in the White Pits until you’re withered and gray!”</p><p>After several minutes of paternal anger, he at last was reluctantly congratulated on becoming a dragon in full. Grandfather was woken, as tradition dictated, and Bain was left in the Throne Room. It was a cavernous room, big enough to hold even Grandmother, although she only barely fit. Her bronze eyes bored into his back, black fangs only fifty feet behind him. Bain shuffled as he waited, trying to avoid tripping over his new wings. The towering Throne, black and half-melted, forged from the bones of the Goddess Herself, loomed. Even in his new scales, the Throne dwarfed him.</p><p>The floor was covered in mosaics, guarded by a layer of glassy stone, depicting events from ancient history. The Four Founders and the Goddess arriving were at the end, by the great doors. As they got closer to the Throne, the images of ancient dragonlords devastating and raiding gradually shifted. Castles were built, dragons spending more time in their human birth shapes. Raiding were replaced by ceremony and tribute, stolen women replaced by lawful brides. The terrifying, huge body of the atavistic Beast took up an entire section, the shapes of burning men and heaps of stolen gold piled around his two legs and beneath his black wings.</p><p>After the Beast came the various Kaisers and Kaisarins, disgraces and triumphs alike. Loreon the Weak is there, Bain I in his pale glory, and Velus the Black. Bain’s examination of the mosaics was interrupted by a noise.</p><p>The doors to the side of the Throne Room swung open, Grandsire’s reflection visible on the glassy floor. His cane clacked against the mosaics covering the floor, and he made his way to the towering Throne. He sat, wincing as old bones ground together. Grandsire was the oldest dragon alive by far, and the largest. In his dragon shape he was clad in glorious white scales, but he was by no means unflawed. The deep scars in his face where Uncle Valaris tried to gouge out his eyes were deep enough to be seen even in his human skin, and innumerable bites, claws and burns tracked across his body. Grandsire always went sleeveless, baring the ten punctures from Grandmother’s claws (inflicted during their wedding fight). His throat was marred by a puckered bite mark, a burn lancing across one cheekbone. Grandsire always shaved his head, citing that hair longer than stubble was a ‘youthful vanity’.</p><p>His grim eyes were what truly terrified Bain, though. They were a pale, ethereal white, blazing like spotlights in the brazier-lit chamber. Bain found he couldn’t look into them.</p><p>“Well,” he said after minutes of staring at Bain’s draconic form. “Another dragon lives.” Grandfather didn’t speak in the common tongue, Edant. His words were in the Old Tongue, the same words spoken when the dragonlords arrived on the black beaches of Urnova.</p><p>Bain bowed, snout scraping the slick floor. The image of Bain the First spread on that part of the floor, depicting him devouring the Traitors Six alive.</p><p>“You are a fine dragon, my son, made in the image of King Araxeon. He was mine uncle, as I’m sure you know. He told me, before he went to scales, that a king must be reckless and controlled at the same time. Too much control, and you’re just a man, as King Loreon the Weak proved. Too reckless, and you’re a mere monster, as the Beast was. All of our line must learn to strike a balance. Do you understand?”</p><p>Bain nodded as easily as his long neck allowed.</p><p>“Good. Tomorrow, you’ll learn how to avoid becoming a smoking smear on my fortress. Uncle Robb will be your teacher.” Bain shuddered. Robb was a nice uncle, despite his bastardy, but he knew Robb wouldn’t pull any punches.</p><p>_________</p><p>It was a beautiful summer’s day, the last before the fall truly set in. The Dragonswood where the Royal Family hunted was beginning to shift from green to gold and red, and the black towers of the Drachenfeste were adorned with the Royal heraldry in the form of hundred-foot tapestries. Bain and his Father circled in the sky, Grandsire and Grandmother perched on the colossal towers of the Drachenfeste, occasionally snapping at each other in the way of old couples. Uncle Robb’s red-black wings were dimly visible in the distance, circling the Dragonswood in search of a meal. Mother was sitting on the steps of the fortress, cradling her belly in human shape. According to the doctors, she was due to bear a child in a week or so. It was days like this, with no royal duties, that Bain felt truly alive.</p><p>His sharp eyes gazed at his mother by chance. Bain saw her make to stand, only to fall. With a shriek, he descended to the steps and shifted in a flare of light. He caught her, cradling her until Father and Grandsire descended to carry her to a doctor. Father shouted for a midwife, eyes blazing with concern. Grandmother slammed down, tattered wings loosely folded. Guards rushed to find aid, and Bain caught a glimpse of his Mother swept up into Father’s arms.</p><p>That was the last time Bain saw his mother alive.</p><p>He sat outside the birthing room, fingers curling into black talons as he clenched his fists. Smoking red blood dripped from his hands. Uncle Robb stood next to him, fiery red eyes edged with black, brown hair falling in his face. He offered no words, instead opting to glare into the distance. </p><p>Bain’s nose and ears were duller in human shape, but not dull enough to ignore the smell of blood or the screams. His fingers bit deeper into his hands.</p><p>***</p><p>Bain cradled his new brother, Magnus. Father held his twin, Noakh. Both looked like nothing more than red, outsized beans to him, chubby and screaming. Their eyes were still colorless, but one day they’d both prove dragons. He knew it as surely as he knew his own blood. </p><p>_________</p><p>Bain was showing Noakh a toy when Magnus woke his dragon. Before he realized what was happening, Magnus had set half the nursery aflame, and blundered out a window. Bain grabbed Noakh, and shouldered through the wooden door with a single motion. After the crying three-year-old was safely in a nurse’s arms, Bain charged through the flames and out the window as he shifted into his dragon.</p><p>Magnus was circling, reflective silver scales gleaming in the sunlight. Only the size of a medium-large dog at most, and only awakened for less than a minute, but already flying. Bain gently seized him in a claw, much to Magnus’s dismay, and brought him to the ground. He shifted back to human form, and hugged Magnus. His scales were burning hot, and Bain regretted not wearing dragonscale. His fine clothes were obliterated.</p><p>“You really scared me there, brother,” Bain said calmly. “You know what? You’re a dragon now. How wonderful is that?” Magnus just exhaled a smoking breath over his brother’s shoulder. He seemed unimpressed with his new scales.</p><p>_________</p><p>The Drachenfeste was built on a volcanic spring, sunken into a roughly circular platform of stone two hundred feet tall. Deep caverns had been carved to allow the eldest dragons, the ones the size of hills, a resting place out of the rain. It was here that Grandmother slept out her days, far from the prying eyes of reporters and tourists eager to spread the gossip surrounding the ‘Last Great Empire’.</p><p>Bain walked down a staircase gouged from the living rock, plunging like a mineshaft into the huge chamber where the thirty great dens opened. Magnus slithered ahead of him, the light of his jaws illuminating the black stone ahead. Noakh walked in human shape behind him, carrying a dead sheep. Noakh hadn’t shifted yet, and for all Bain knew he might never do so. He doubted it. The smell of reptile, smoke and elderly human was strong here. Extremely so.</p><p>Bain’s oldest, reptilian instincts recognized it as the smell of a revered elder. His human impulses regarded it as the sign of a predator. Both were correct here.<br/>
At last, the stairs opened up into the vast, torchlit space. The ashy bones of cattle and sheep were strewn around the sands where Magnus had been feeding. Grandmother and Father were less messy. They could simply swallow prey whole.</p><p>Grandmother rumbled in her den, deep bronze eyes focusing on Magnus. He flapped to her side like a bat, eagerly recounting his first kill in the Dragonswood as Noakh dragged the sheep over to Grandmother’s side. She gently exhaled on it, charring it half to ashes before scooping it up with a long, forked black tongue. Bain found a seat on a bench carved from the wall, listening to Magnus and Noakh with a smile on his face. Magnus would one day make an incredible prince. Bain’s future heirs would be able to rely on him, and once Noakh proved a dragon there would be two guardians of his family.</p><p>_________</p><p>Bain was no longer a boy of ten, learning to fly under his Father’s gaze. He was a dragon in full, plated with armor capable of shrugging off grenades. This was his first true test, defending one of the naval bases of Eastern Soklia. They were valuable allies, and Grandsire had received a call for aid from them. He swooped low, drawing energy from the Goddess in whatever Hell she was trapped in. Heat swelled deep within, boiling his blood as his scales smoked with the pent-up heat. Acrid vapors trailed from his jaws and nostrils, glowing like white-hot smoke.</p><p>His flames were not so hot as Grandsire’s, with whom even a near-miss would result in an entire dreadnought reduced to liquid metal. His scales were not so hard as Grandsire’s, capable of weathering a battleship’s fire without slowing down. But Bain’s scarlet fires were still hot enough to ignite the rounds in storage with the guns, and a trail of explosions ripped the ship apart. Then he plunged below the sea, swimming with vertical undulations until he was close enough to bite the hull of another ship.</p><p>Bain breathed flame instead, a jet of crimson and gold tearing through the hull with an explosion of steam. The boiler shattered, and Bain erupted from the water. With a beat of his wings he rose into the sky, another jet of liquid flame five hundred feet long splashing across another dreadnought. The guns of the fleet fired, and Bain slithered through the shelling with ease.</p><p>Eventually, after decimating the fleet, he turned to the south and soared to the clifftop fortress he was sent to rescue. The sight of a dragon big enough to swallow a horse sent the besiegers running, a roar scaring off anyone foolish enough to remain. He swooped low over the fort, wings folding as he settled down in the main yard.</p><p>Bain shifted back in a flash of sun-bright scarlet, armored in his own shed scales. It was the only thing that can survive the rigors of transformation. A uniformed man with a cropped beard and mustache bowed slightly before him, flanked by two guards. The Soklian blue uniforms were much more elaborate than the Urnovan simple brown.</p><p>“My lord,” he said. “We thank you for coming to our aid.”</p><p>“It’s no matter,” said Bain, waving away the words. “And there’s no need to call me lord, that’s my Grandfather.” He parted his golden-brown hair, pinning one side up with a dragonbone pin stashed in a pocket of his armor. It was the latest style, and who was he to contradict style?</p><p>“As you wish, Prince Bain.”</p><p>_________</p><p>“We come together this day, to celebrate the life of my beloved wife, Kaiserin Vasha,” Grandsire said with an unusually weak voice. All of the dragons present were in human shape, as a sign of respect to the deceased. Father stood at his side, eyes glancing over the assembled dragonlords, lords and valued servants. Robb was separate from them, but still nearby. Photographers and reporters stood at the very back, by the staircase into the caverns. </p><p>Bain stood soberly, as Magnus and Noakh wept at his side. He gently ruffled Magnus’s ashen hair, as he gazed at the colossal funeral pyre. Grandmother, once burning hot, once vibrant even in her twilight, was no more. Cameras captured her great, cooling bulk. Bain wanted nothing more than to smash each and every camera with his fist.</p><p>Vasha was too huge to be moved from her den, and so the funeral had been brought to her. Logs of cedar had been arranged around her, incense spread over her red scales. She had been the greatest dragon of her age, dying at the age of one hundred and five years old. She was the daughter of a kaiser, wife of another, and mother of no less than five great dragons. Her descendants cemented the reign of dragons for another three generations, a worthy legacy of a warrior kaiserin. Her fires had shattered two rebellions, and stamped out a fleet of rebels. Kaiserin Vasha had seen the modernization of her nation, from a nation of farmers and wagons to a nation of manufacturing and automobiles. She had been a little girl, already a proven dragon, when Automedon revolted against the Eastern Monopolies. And now she would return to the Goddess.</p><p>Once Grandsire was finished, Father began to speak. Bain looked at Grandsire, really looked. His fingers were too long, with long, hooked black talons. Webbing grew between them. Grandsire looked ill, with pale and wrinkled skin. His eyes burned far too bright, pale flames almost moving in his eye sockets. His teeth were black, and nauseatingly long and sharp, his tongue almost too long to fit properly in his mouth. The characteristic grooved lines of his shift, deep and raw, smoked.</p><p>His dragon side was bleeding through his skin, Bain realized. He’d go to scales before long.</p><p>“With our flames, we commend Kaisarin Vasha to the Goddess!” Father declared in a shaking voice. Then the mourners were moved into the main chamber, and the dragons shifted in an incandescent rainbow. Camera flashes, obscenely, lit up the space.</p><p>Noakh, as the youngest of the proven dragons, unleashed the first flames. Gray and gold streamed from his jaws, still little more than sparks. Magnus jetted a blast of silver-gold, wood catching in an instant. Bain’s own crimson-gold flames filled the pyre. Father’s violet inferno was soon joined by Grandsire’s pure white fires.</p><p>Before long, Grandmother Vasha was little more than glittering ashes. The dragons each seized a urn, fitted for their jaws, and took a scoop of her mortal remains. A wingbeat from Grandsire sent the rest flying from the den and into the noon sky, and he surged ahead. The dragons took flight, ascending to the heights above the Capital. It was a beautiful, cloudless blue day.<br/>
Bain shattered his urn first, spreading her ashes to the winds. The others did the same, and sent her off with a final blast of flame. As the smoke faded, and the family descended, Grandsire remained in the air. His pale bulk circled, eyes fixed somewhere beyond human or dragon sight. Grandsire had always regretted not going to scales, as he’d said many times, regretted not spending more time with his wife of eighty years. He’d never found the right time to give up his duties, and now it was too late.</p><p>Father would take up the Throne in his stead, it was decided. What else was there to do?</p><p>As Bain walked away from the assembled two dozen or so lesser dragonlords expressing their condolences to Father, he felt a tug on his arm. A black-haired woman his age, dressed in noble red with golden thread, looked at him. Her eyes were only a human shade of blue, but not an unlovely one.</p><p>“My lady,” he said quietly.</p><p>“My condolences, Prince Bain,” she said. “I am Lady Maria Duskfire. Would you care to eat with me?”</p><p>Bain nodded.</p><p>***</p><p>She was kind, he reflected as he dined on a steak. Maria didn’t try to pry, or monopolize the conversation. She listened, and added her own experiences with her grand-aunt before she’d gone to scales and eventual death. Her family was a small one, with barely any proven dragons in their line, but nonetheless a noble one.</p><p>But that wasn’t what made him like her. Maria was someone else entirely.</p><p>_________</p><p>Father had remarried, but Bain didn’t like his stepmother. She wasn’t even of dragon blood, and she did not want to understand her new children. Kaiserin Jenna, a foreign actress from Automedon, was a tall woman. She was formidable, wore her black hair in a bun, and her eyes were dark. Jenna loomed like a cliff, harsh and ever looking down on Bain and Magnus and Noakh.</p><p>Maybe she wanted them to stay in human shape so that she could keep looking down on them, Bain thought sourly.</p><p>_________</p><p>Magnus received an... unusual gift, to say the least, when his thirteenth nameday arrived.</p><p>The Northern Alliance were famed for their powers of biological manipulation, a sort of magic capable of creating virtually anything alive. In lieu of that, they had made a human. He was of a height with Magnus, apparently the same age (though Bain knew he’d probably only been made recently), with brown hair and dark eyes. The ambassadors had called him ‘Guardian’.</p><p>“A perfect champion and confidant for his Grace,” one had said. “He cannot speak to betray you, he is knowledgeable in many fields of music and medicine, and he will lay down his life to defend you.”</p><p>Father had reluctantly accepted the gift. The Northern Alliance was a powerful ally, and unusually prickly regarding criticism with regards to their ‘Craft'. Bain had found ‘Guardian’ to be polite, as much as a voiceless individual could be, but he wasn’t about to wholeheartedly trust him. Especially not with his brother’s life, even if Magnus already seemed to like him. Magnus began talking to Guardian, something about how annoying crowds were.</p><p>He resolved to keep a close eye on them.</p><p>_________</p><p>Jenna would birth two surviving children. Urri was the oldest, a girl with striking dark hair and a boyish build. The second was little Lukas, whose twin sister proved the death of Jenna. Bain regretted his feelings towards her dislike of dragons upon seeing the girl.</p><p>No infant should have wings or horns.</p><p>_________</p><p>Bain slouched in his chair, molten red-and-gold eyes half closed with pleasure. It was hard being a prince. You had so many people to appease, a now-deceased Grandsire to make proud, a Father to aid. And then there were the rumors of Uncle being sighted somewhere in the vicinity of the Sea of Storms, just after Grandsire had passed away. It was perhaps a good thing he wasn’t around to hear about it.</p><p>Father was crawling on the walls with worry. He’d been in his twin’s way when he went half-mad. Father still had the scars from Uncle’s teeth and claws along his throat and abdomen, where he’d tried to eviscerate him. </p><p>“Whatever’s the matter, darling?” Maria said as she kneaded his shoulders. He made a humming of contentment, shaking the chair, and closed his eyes entirely.</p><p>“Just considering what sort of wedding to have,” he said. “I’m partial to the traditional one, where I swoop in after you make your vows before an altar and carry you off to some barren island in the bay...” She lightly swatted his head.</p><p>“Maybe we’ll go to a mountain instead? I know a few lovely caves...” he said with a grin.</p><p>“I’m not going to live in a wet, cold cave. Even if I had a strapping man to do the housework,” said Maria. He snorted.</p><p>“Okay, okay. We’ll have your mother watch the wedding, and say our vows like normal people.”</p><p>“It’s popular,” Maria said. “The average person wants to see their lords as human, not as a dragon.” Bain hummed once again. The new Equality Movement was one thing he disliked. It was one thing to want equal rights to the Low Nobility, men raised by Dragonlords to power, but dragons were not men. They were born like them, grew up like them, but they were different. Stronger. Freer. More beautiful. They were the last real Gifted in the world, the last great Gifted Empire. Automedon, for all her power in Gift and politics and wealth, was a century-old upstart.</p><p>“I’m sure it’ll be lovely either way,” he said, avoiding the issue. “Besides, I’ll still fly with you afterwards.”</p><p>***</p><p>The wedding took place in the Shrine, a long hallway pierced on both sides by tall, thin windows. Mosaics of the Goddess and Her children, as well as the aboriginal gods of land and water, covered the ceiling and floor. Only a few people, all family, as well as a couple reporters and the priest, witnessed. Bain stood at the altar, tapping his toes nervously. Dragonscale armor had never felt so hot until now.</p><p>The doors of the Shrine opened, Maria walking through in a white gown. Bain grinned, eyes flush with excitement. Magnus made a gagging motion in the frontmost pew, and Father smacked the back of his head. </p><p>The priest went through the ritual, and Bain answered as he should, but his eyes were solely reserved for Maria. His hand gently fitted into her own, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Before long the final vow arrived.</p><p>“Do you take this woman to be your wife, for as long as the stars are in the sky?” The priest asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Bain said, before embracing Maria and giving her a passionate kiss. Her father gave him a deadly glare once he was through, which he answered with a nervous smile. Then the wedding moved to the outdoors, and Bain shifted with a roar of flames. Then he stretched out on his belly, extending a wing to allow Maria to climb on. </p><p>Once she was in place, legs locked around the base of his neck, he slowly took flight to circle the city. If she’d been a dragon, they would have fought a duel, ripping and clawing until they reached an accord. But Maria was human, too delicate to be treated like another dragon. </p><p>He didn’t mind. She was worth being human for.</p><p>***</p><p>After the ceremony, Bain took a much-needed vacation to the ancestral palace at Heiliger Berg, Maria in tow.</p><p>The palace was not, perhaps, the largest construction ever reared. But the great dome perched atop a small mountain, and commanded a view of the entire valley below. He soared ahead of the convoy of vehicles, scarlet wings bearing him and his bride five times around the summit of the mountain.</p><p>When he came down on one balcony, Maria laughed in exhilaration. </p><p>“Husband, you should fly with me every day while we’re here,” she said with a smile. He pulled her close.</p><p>“I shall,” he swore, and then pulled her into a deep kiss.</p><p>Those were the best weeks of his marriage by far, at least for a time.</p><p>_________</p><p>Bain had a stupidly wide smile on his face as Magnus and Noakh walked into the Throne Room. Father was happy too, much more so than Bain had ever seen him.<br/>
“Why are you grinning?” Magnus said. Guardian trailed behind him like a living shadow, wearing the black uniform of the Royal Household, eyes downcast. Despite his early misgivings, Bain had to admit that Guardian had been nothing but good news, helping Magnus break out of his self-imposed shell. He didn’t even send messages to the Northerners, as Father had feared might happen. But something in his manner with Magnus seemed… strange. He couldn’t name it. If he was feeling impulsive, he’d almost describe it as needy.</p><p>“Well, dear brothers, you will soon become an uncle,” Bain said with a grin. Magnus looked at Noakh, and then back at Bain. A grin spread across Noakh’s face when he got it. Magnus just looked puzzled.</p><p>_________</p><p>Magnus walked with Bain and Maria, their son (Ark) on his shoulders. Zia, Ark's big sister, walked at Maria’s side with a determined stride. Bain held her hand, keeping her steady as they walked through the palace gardens. It was a beautiful summer’s day, all green and gold. Bain felt like nothing would bring down his mood.</p><p>“Magnus, will you have children?” Magnus snorted, bouncing as Ark babbled on his shoulders.</p><p>“Never. They’re too whiny and annoying.” Ark grabbed a handful of ashen hair and yanked. Magnus made a pained noise, gesturing frantically as Maria covered her mouth with one hand.</p><p>“Don’t just stand there, get your spawn off of me!” Magnus shouted. Bain lifted Ark off, laughing all the while. After a moment for Magnus’s wounded pride, Bain broached the subject again.<br/>
“You’ll be married one day, I imagine?”</p><p>“No, never,” Magnus said. “I’d rather be free for more worthy pursuits than spawning little wyrms of my own.”</p><p>Bain chuckled. Magnus had readily taken to swordplay, despite it being a largely outmoded skill. And besides, dragonlords didn’t participate in the common duels of men. When they fought, it was with tooth and claw and fire.</p><p>_________</p><p>Bain circled high above the Drachenfeste, exulting in the last rays of summer sun. Soon, winter would be upon the city, and they’d all need to remain inside. He was determined to enjoy his last leisurely flight. Suddenly, the wind shifted, and his forked tongue caught the scent of an older dragon. It wasn’t any of the familiar dragon lords. It wasn’t a mere Noble.<br/>
It was another Royal.</p><p>Uncle had come home. Bain shrieked a warning as black wings appeared on the horizon. The enormous dragon roared, black flames streaming from his jagged maw. Each irregular fang was titanic, a curved, razor-sharp peglike spike black as iron and thrice as deadly. Guns fired, the puny bullets the Royal Guards used barely enough to gain his attention. Bain wondered why they even bothered. Uncle bellowed once more, and Bain saw his eyes, They were orbs of obsidian fire, fixed on him like an eagle upon a challenger. Half his face was a puckered, burned ruin from Grandsire.</p><p>Father surged upwards, purple scales catching the light that fell upon them. Violet flames erupted from his jaws, exploding like a second sun against Uncle’s armored chest. Valaris’s fires washed out of his throat like a tide of black vomit, stinking and rank. Bain roared a blast of scarlet flames, aiming for his Uncle’s eyes, but his black wing intercepted the blast. Instead of attacking Bain, he lunged for Father, sinking black fangs into his throat and crunching through the scales. As Father kicked feebly, Uncle's talons seized his wing and chest, and as Bain looked on in horror...</p><p>His Uncle ripped Father in half. And then he simply let his corpse plunge to the fortress walls, demolishing one courtyard.</p><p>Bain roared in volcanic fury, diving and gouging deep into his back. His Uncle bellowed and snapped, tail cracking like a whip the length of a small train. Bain bit and gnawed, leaving deep rips where smoking black gore poured. His Uncle lurched, and began to fall. A second blast of red-gold fires lanced against his Uncle’s back, the talons of one of Bain’s wings digging into Valaris’s eye. The eye burst in a rush of molten ichor.</p><p>Valaris screamed in pain.</p><p>Before Bain could deliver the final blow, he heard gunshots and a scream. Maria’s scream, and his children’s cries as well. Bain turned, and in that moment of distraction Uncle twisted like a serpent and threw him off his back. Bain roared, and then his Uncle sunk his jaws into his wing and drove him shrieking into the same courtyard his father’s body lay. As Bain raged and struggled against the crushing weight, the beast he once called uncle pounded his wing talons into him over and over again, until he couldn’t find any more energy. As Bain weakly laid his head down, glowing red blood seeping from his wounds, he was denied a peaceful death.</p><p>A claw pounded clean through his head, obliterating all conscious thought. </p><p>He awoke on the surface of a mirror-smooth sea, beneath trillions of alien stars.</p>
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